Dom wet his lips. ‘Please, Rass. Please.’
‘Mine, for eternity,’ Rasson repeated. Two long fingers wended their way down past Dom’s balls, glancing across sensitive skin, and then dipped inside Dom, but only to the first knuckle. Rasson’s fingers stilled and went no further.
‘Galactic Gods, you’re killing me…’ Dom rasped.
‘Say it,’ Rasson commanded. There was need in his voice, a desperate need that outstripped mere desire.
This was a god asking, begging, for his husband to stay by his side.
And Dom had no intention of denying him.
‘Yours,’ Dom promised. ‘For eternity.’
The fingers slid out of him. Dom moaned in disappointment — but then they were back, this time coated with lube. The Iceine had no doubt teleported it in from somewhere and Dom would have congratulated his husband on doing it so discreetly had he not been so distracted. Rasson continued to work his way further inside Dom, his other hand braced on Dom’s hip.
When he removed his fingers again, Rasson compensated for the loss by bending over and kissing each and every notch of Dom’s spine, claiming the bones he had mended, the body he had healed.
Dom’s hands fisted into the sheets. ‘Rass…in me, please.’
He heard the slither of silksein puddling onto the floor; Rasson had disrobed. Dom was tempted to look over his shoulder at the slim lines of his lover, his husband…and could find no reason not to.
He grinned. ‘You really are something else, you know that?’
Rasson’s gaze dropped. ‘Dom, I…’
‘Don’t deny how fucking beautiful you are,’ Dom told him. ‘Because then I might have to get you on your hands and knees and spank the confession out of you.’
Rasson looked back up from the floor, pale eyes glinting. His hand closed over his own hardness and began to spread the lube along each bump and bulging vein.
‘Next time,’ Dom promised.
Rasson blinked — then smiled slowly. ‘No. I am a god. I will never be beneath you.’
‘Wait a minute. I’ve had you under me, moaning my name and…’
‘Dom. If you wish me to satisfy you, keep silent and accept that this is how it will be from now on.’
Dom swallowed, trying to rein in the groan that threatened to escape when his god’s swollen cock nudged his entrance, slick and ready. But Rasson was playing with Dom, taking his time. And those frigid fingers were doing such wicked things to Dom’s nipples — tweaking them, rubbing them or skating right around them.
Stark! Why had he taught Rasson to be so good at this?
Rasson pushed forward another few micrometres. Dom ground his teeth into the inside of his cheek. He would not beg. Not when his god required silence from him.
‘Your obedience pleases me,’ Rasson whispered against his shoulder blade.
Then, with one swift glide, the Iceine encased himself fully inside his husband. Dom’s elbows dropped onto the bed and he cried out. He was too far gone to apologise for disobeying. But it seemed Rasson didn’t need him to. The Iceine wound his hand around Dom’s shaft, a snug embrace that only grew tighter.
‘Rassss,’ Dom hissed, unable to say more, unable to insert anything other than lust into his voice.
‘Husband,’ Rasson rumbled in response, causing Dom to spasm inside his grip.
And then the god began to move. His thrusts were excruciatingly slow at first, his strokes on Dom’s thickened length matching the gentle rhythm. After a couple of minutes, Rasson shifted on his knees and pressed up against that sensitive spot inside Dom, pausing when Dom drew a startled breath.
‘Dom?’ Rasson questioned.
‘Yeah, right there,’ Dom gasped. ‘Keep hitting that.’
Rasson obliged him, effortlessly finding that spot again and again, maintaining his accuracy even as he increased his speed. A heavy ache began to spread throughout Dom’s pelvis, rapidly growing in urgency. Dom arched back into Rasson, forcing his husband’s thrusts, not caring if he was going to be punished for it, knowing that any torture his husband might unleash on him was well worth —
Rasson grunted and flared inside Dom, triggering his own release. Intense pleasure slammed into Dom, reducing his entire focus to the heat coursing through his cock. He collapsed, his contorted expression crashing into the pillow beneath him. His thighs and stomach were coated with his satisfaction and his mind was cast adrift, an iceberg loose at sea.
He lay boneless as Rasson scooted down beside him on the bed, thin arms wrapping around Dom’s torso and holding him close.
‘I…’ Dom shuddered, overwhelmed by the lingering sensations of their union. ‘You know I only got that man in here to get your attention. I wasn’t going to betray you.’
‘You don’t need to do this to get my attention, husband,’ Rasson murmured. ‘Not anymore. Now be quiet. And rest.’
Dom forced his eyes to remain open. ‘Rass, we need to talk about this.’
The Iceine nuzzled his neck for several moments before responding. ‘I…I am sorry for being distant with you of late. I thought I could stop my brother getting to me, but he managed it anyway. He always does. You must understand; he’s been the only one there for me, in all this time. I trust — I trusted him. He said you could never want me after I…after I…’
‘You kept me hostage in an iceberg,’ Dom pointed out. ‘Even a cruel god like Oceania can see how messed up that is. I’m not surprised he said that.’
‘Husband…’ Rasson’s voice broke.
Dom wriggled around inside his husband’s embrace in order to face him. Those pale eyes glanced away.
‘Look at me,’ Dom said.
Rasson’s eyelids flickered but his gaze didn’t budge.
‘Look at me.’
With a sigh, the Iceine finally relented.
‘You did it the wrong way,’ Dom told him. ‘Let’s not dance around that issue. And yeah, I did jump at the chance to marry you for my own selfish reasons, but you knew I’d do that when you offered it. No one’s blameless here.’
‘Dom, it does not matter, not anymore,’ Rasson said, voice firming.
‘Silence, husband,’ Dom commanded.
Rasson swiftly obeyed this time, delight glowing in his eyes, apparently just as affected by ceding control as Dom was.
‘I’ve never had a stable relationship,’ Dom went on. ‘No one ever fought to keep me around. When I said I was leaving, they just didn’t care. My parents, my brothers, my sisters, my lovers — none of them cared. I guess what I’m saying is…you’re my rock. My iceberg,’ he corrected with a laugh. ‘My stability. So while I’m off exploring the galaxy for most of the year, I’ll always know I have somewhere to go home to.’
For one glorious hour, they simply entwined, their spent bodies sagging into the sheets, staining and warming them. Dom was just about to doze off when Rasson began to speak, mostly about his relationship with Fayay; it was a deluge of words that sounded as though they had been trapped inside the Iceine’s chest for centuries.
When his husband had finally stopped talking, Dom brushed his lips over Rasson’s, then drew back to say, ‘I don’t mean to tell my husband who he can and can’t hang out with, but this brother of yours doesn’t sound like the best person to have around. He’s a black hole, sucking you in with him. I can keep reminding you how gorgeous you are, how much I want you forever, but it’s going to get annoying if it becomes a daily thing. I like to skip straight to the sex.’
Rasson laughed. ‘I am so glad I chose you.’
‘And I’m glad I chose you right back,’ Dom said, smiling.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘Will you return home with me after we’ve done this?’ Rasson asked.
They were standing outside the hotel, bathed in the muddied yellow light that crept through the planet’s thick atmosphere. A few paces away, parked on the dirt path that passed for a street, was the sleek hoverbike that Dom intended to ride over to some nearby catacombs which
had been recently hewn by an aggressive species of fern. When Dom had asked his husband if he’d like to come along as well, Rasson had been unable to think of any reason to refuse.
Now the Iceine stood there in the open, feeling strange and vulnerable in the slightly too-large shirt and jeans that Dom had foisted on him (along with a leather belt that barely kept the denim from falling to Rasson’s knees). Apparently the mortals would think it odd if Rasson wore only his robe among them.
Dom shook his head, grinning. ‘You know the agreement, Rass. I get to go explore the galaxy at my leisure for eleven months out of every Old Earth year.’
Rasson sighed. ‘Once I would have thought eleven months nothing compared to the centuries I will live.’
‘You could visit me sometimes, and not just to have your way with me,’ Dom offered. ‘You’d get to see how I work, how I capture my footage. And we could get to know each other, like any normal couple.’
Rasson pursed his lips, considering. He was duty-bound to look after the mortals and the areas that fell under his control, but if there was an emergency anything from an ice cube to an iceberg would let him know if he was needed. And things tended to move at a glacial rate in his domain, for the most part.
‘I would like that,’ Rasson said finally.
Dom slid his riding visor on and then produced a second pair. Turning the item over in his hands, Rasson wondered if his husband had kept the spare visor for himself or in the off-chance that one day he’d have company.
‘Glad to hear it,’ Dom said, interrupting his thoughts. ‘Now let’s get moving.’
Dom rode the hoverbike with practiced ease, either swerving around obstacles in their way or leaping over them entirely. Even though Rasson trusted Dom, he held on tight, moulded along his husband’s back as the vehicle bounced beneath them.
Rasson could have teleported them both straight to the catacombs, but he hadn’t offered — because that would be a shortcut, leaving those two hours unfilled at some other point in their future.
And what better way to spend his time than with Dom Zhang, the mortal who still had so much to teach him?
• • •
Ten Old Earth years later
The odour of rotting seaweed roused the Iceine from his post-coital doze.
Rasson blinked, adjusting to the pre-dawn gloom, then slid off the bed and grabbed his robe. Within moments he was on top of the fortress, a chilly breeze slithering beneath silksein and caressing his skin, the way Dom’s fingers had done barely an hour ago.
This was Rasson’s favourite month of the year — and the one he feared the most.
For while he enjoyed lying beside his husband in their home, there was always a risk that Fayay would try to intrude on his happiness.
The last time the brothers had spoken, shortly after Rasson and Dom had begun to see each other outside of their special month, Rasson had told Fayay to stay away permanently.
‘You will come crawling back to me,’ Fayay had declared then, so sure that he was right. ‘You came back before.’
But Rasson never did.
After years of basking in the company of someone who didn’t feel jealous about him being comfortable with his body and his choices, Rasson found he didn’t miss his brother.
Now, a decade later, Fayay had come crawling to him.
‘Fayay!’ Rasson called. ‘Meet me up here. Don’t go anywhere near my husband.’
An immense tidal wave rose beside him, taller than the fortress, and dashed itself against the ragged surface. The ice at Rasson’s feet formed cords that locked around his ankles, keeping him in place as the water slammed into him. When it receded, gushing down every side of the iceberg, Fayay finally swirled into being.
‘Say what you’ve come to say,’ Rasson gritted out.
‘I require your assistance with a plan of mine,’ Fayay said, a glint in his eyes.
Rasson tilted his head to the side, allowing the breeze to ruffle his hair into the mess that Dom seemed to enjoy so much. ‘What are you up to, Fayay?’
‘Accept your place by my side and I will tell you.’
‘No.’
‘No?’ One eyebrow crept up Fayay’s greasy forehead.
‘No,’ Rasson repeated. ‘You are no doubt thinking of going after the Desine again. And he will defeat us. Again.’
‘Poor Rasson, poor little Rasson. You always were slow.’ Fayay’s lip curled. ‘I have no intention of fighting Sandsa openly. There are other ways to gain power in this galaxy.’
‘I want no part in this, whatever it is,’ Rasson said firmly. ‘Go away.’
Disgust darkened Fayay’s expression. ‘That husband of yours has made you soft, weak. I’d be doing you a favour if I got rid of him. Any punishment Father might inflict on me for slaying your precious Dom would be well worth it.’
Rasson’s heart stuttered, but he kept his voice even. ‘This isn’t about Dom. I’ve spoken to Kuja and Finara. I know how Father interferes, how he plans our lives. Do not delude yourself into thinking that you have any real choice in how your scheme finishes.’
‘Coward,’ Fayay snapped.
Rasson laughed, his chest feeling oddly light despite the old pain that Fayay’s visit had stirred up inside him. ‘It’s not cowardice. I vowed never to hurt Dom and I will not risk breaking that vow. My death would hurt him.’
‘Are you sure?’ the Watine hissed. ‘Has he ever said that he loves you? Well, has he?’
‘He’s never needed to.’ Rasson held out his hand, a sharp spear-like icicle growing out of it. He wasn’t sure how useful the weapon would be, given that Fayay could use his telekinetic abilities to defend himself. ‘I will not help you. Leave.’
Fayay glowered at his brother but remained where he was, despite the implied threat. ‘You have turned against me. It is only a matter of time before you betray my confidence.’
Rasson released a sigh. ‘Fayay. I can’t be that miserable little brother you liked pushing around. Not anymore. But I promise I will never reveal your secret to any of our siblings.’
‘You told him, didn’t you,’ Fayay snarled.
‘He’s my husband. I trust his silence, just as you should trust my faith in him. Why are you still here? Go away!’
Rasson threw the icicle, but it was a half-hearted attempt. The translucent shaft dropped and skidded, missing Fayay completely. The Watine could have easily deflected the missile, but it seemed he hadn’t even tried.
Something akin to relief spasmed across Fayay’s face. Then the water god turned and ran to the edge of the iceberg, launching himself off it. Rasson didn’t hear a splash.
The Watine was gone. Hopefully for good this time.
Rasson spent several minutes up there alone, watching the sunrise poke its way through fading mist, then descended into the fortress. Dom was now awake, a fur sliding down his back as he lay on his stomach and worked on a large techpad he had propped up against his pillow. Above him, a vidcam hovered, its lens aimed down at the bed.
Dom had ceased to work for the Graphic Stock Collection some years ago. He now spent his days as a faceless but popular graphic artist who manipulated raw footage taken with his own vidcam. He’d even had a widely read e-paper article posted on the Web about him, written by the similarly anonymous Grace Pendergast, wife to the goddess of fire and thereby Rasson’s sister-in-law. Rasson still wasn’t sure what to make of Dom’s association with Grace, but he was pleased that Dom had someone he could talk to about his loss of mortality.
Rasson bit his lip. Fayay was right. Dom had never said that special word, but neither had the Iceine. In all this time.
Rasson was well aware that the emotion hadn’t been there to start with (the lust had been their strongest tie then, not their binding scars), but his feelings had matured slowly over the years, until they were so strong they drove the beating of his very human heart.
Dom looked up at him. ‘Good, you’re back. I need to show you this — ’
‘Sil
ence, husband,’ Rasson said. Once Dom had dutifully quietened, a smile tweaking his lips, the Iceine continued, ‘I have neglected to tell you something. Perhaps I feared how you’d respond. But…’ It was now or never. He ploughed on. ‘I love you.’
The laughter he did not expect.
Wiping the mirth from his eyes, Dom waved his husband over. Rasson obeyed and crouched beside him, eyes on Dom’s techpad. Its screen was displaying another of Dom’s masterpieces, beautifully rendered through the device.
And the caption beneath it…not just a title, as usual, but also a dedication: To the love of my very long life.
‘I thought I was going to beat you to it,’ Dom said, still chuckling. ‘Anyway, since this is my best work yet — it’s perfect — then it is worthy of my husband.’
Rasson kissed him, hard, then stole away the techpad, hiding it beneath the furs. When Dom twisted around in search of the device, Rasson surged forward and pinned him down on the bed. The vidcam dropped lower for a better angle, its lens refocusing.
‘Perfect is that look I put on your face when I’m inside you,’ Rasson whispered.
Dom smirked. ‘I’ll judge that for myself when I watch the replay.’
The Whispering Grass
CHAPTER ONE
‘Sanyul! What are you wearing?’ Malikar Bello cried. Her hands fisted around the edges of her son’s jacket and she yanked him inside before the neighbours could see him. ‘You look like you’re going to a funeral, not visiting your mama!’
‘And here I thought he looked like an assassin,’ Ablar, Sanyul’s older sister, remarked as she moved forward to greet him, a beer already extended in her hand. While her mother had paired two matching pieces of kanga to create a fashionable green dress, Ablar wore only one piece as a skirt beneath a simple cotton shirt. She had chosen a kanga with a lined pattern that brought to mind golden grasses waving in the wind.
The Galactic Pantheon Novellas Page 12
